Lonely Scars
by Cathywren
Summary: (Warning - this story includes self-harm and mentions suicide) There's a reason that the young warlock never parts with his long sleeves - some things simply cannot be shrugged off as battle wounds. Can his friends help him back to the light - or is it too late for Merlin to save himself?
1. Prologue

**Those who find self harm triggering (or just don't wish to read about it) should probably not read this story.**

* * *

Prologue

The warlock stared himself down from where he stood in front of his bed, his eyes dragging themselves over his own reflection

/worthless/servant/stupid/idiot/useless/ican'tdoitanymore/

His trembling hands held the shiny blade, the sharp edges threatening to prick his pale skin.

_It's too dark._

The door behind him locked, his fingers clutched at the item in his hands. Voices pounded against his skull like knives, and the memories of his nightmares came back to him. He shivered; _why does feeling hurt so much?_

pain/pain/pain/pain

The scars on his wrists and thighs gleamed white in the pale moonlight. He bit his lip, cutting off the small gasp as he pressed the shining razor against his arm, watching as blood pooled to the surface. Slowly, and then all at once, the red liquid began to drip off of the fresh cut. He let out a shaky breath, and struck the blade against his pale skin twice more as the words and the thoughts slowly disappeared from his mind.

And in the pale moonlight, scars littering his body and blood staining his towels, the young warlock managed to slip under the waves of pain, and do the only thing he'd ever wanted to do.

Forget.

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**A/N: This was so hard to write - the idea is one I think is good, but I hate seeing our young friend like this. Don't worry, it'll get better - I'll update this soon. Please R&amp;R, it means a lot - and if anyone has any suggestions on how I could write this to make it seem more real (or if they want to see something in this story) please send me a private message!**


	2. Something's Wrong

**A/N: Guess who forgot a disclaimer? *Slaps herself in the face* Oh whale**

**idonotownmerlin**

* * *

**_Arthur_**

Arthur awoke to the sound of his curtain's being pulled open and a painful ray of sunlight streaming into his eyes. "_Mer_lin," he groaned, sitting up, and throwing a pillow in the general direction of the blurry outline of his manservant. He slowly opened his eyes, not at all surprised that his friend had managed to avoid being hit by the surprisingly hard object - but more than a little indignant that he was still being ignored. "Merlin."

When his servant didn't respond - Merlin was still staring out the window - Arthur frowned, pulling the sheets aside and placing his feet on the cold stone floor. He crossed his arms, waiting to be noticed. .When that didn't happen, he grabbed a goblet from the side table, and, without further thought, chucked it at Merlin's head.

"Ouch!" Merlin turned around, eyes flashing. "What was that for?"

"I had to get your attention somehow, didn't I?" But something was wrong - Merlin never got mad at Arthur for this kind of thing. "Oh come on, Merlin, you don't have to look so hurt."

Merlin took his time to respond, one had rubbing his left wrist - it was a habit he'd only recently acquired, Arthur noted - and then just shook his head. "No, of course not." His voice was strangely bitter - was that sadness in his tone? "There's your breakfast, my _lord._"

Arthur watched him, eyebrows raised, as Merlin grabbed his dirty clothes, placed his new ones on the bed, and then hurried out of Arthur's room.

The king stared at the door Merlin had just disappeared behind, and then sighed, running his hand through his hair. Arthur pulled on his shirt and trousers before sitting down at his table, hoping to eat and forget about the morning's events, but he couldn't quite take his mind off of what had just happened.

What was the matter with Merlin? He'd been acting strangely as of late, there was no denying it - Arthur had noticed more than once that his manservant often seemed to be off in his own world, paying no attention to what was around him, and Arthur hardly ever saw Merlin eat anymore. In fact, Arthur hardly even _saw _Merlin anymore, much less see him eat. Merlin was always hurrying off - which was nothing like him; usually the raven haired servant hung around Arthur for the most time possible, even when he was ordered not to.

_It's probably nothing, _Arthur pushed the thought away to the best of his capacities, but couldn't quite build up an appetite for the meal in front of him. It _was_ probably nothing - Merlin was moody all the time.

Telling himself that, by tomorrow, everything would be fine, Arthur pushed the plates aside and began to review the day's agenda that sat before him.

After all, he was a king - he had more important things to do than worry about a servant.

* * *

_**Gwaine**_

When Merlin walked past his friend without so much as a hello, Gwaine's suspicions were confirmed. There was definitely something wrong with his best friend.

You would have to be an idiot to miss the obvious change in Merlin's attitude. His once carefree and cheerful young friend hadn't quite been the same since they'd returned from their bout with the Lamia - he shivered, remembering the utter control she'd had over them - and Gwaine was beginning to worry. _You're probably making a big deal out of nothing, _he tried to argue with himself as he walked a little faster in an attempt to catch up with his friend, _Merlin's probably just having a bad day, just because he doesn't want to talk to you doesn't mean something's desperately the matter._

If only Gwaine could believe that was true.

Although he did spend a large majority of his time drunk - or wishing he was - Gwaine had always made time for Merlin. He knew Merlin better than he'd ever known anyone - they'd shared many secrets over a drink - and he knew people better than most would believe (of course, most just believed he was an idiot). Something was wrong.

"Merlin!" Finally having caught up with his young friend, he started talking, "Hey, mate, I was about to go down to the tavern, want to join me for a drink?" When Merlin didn't stop - or answer him - Gwaine frowned and grabbed his wrist to slow him down. "Merlin, are you-"

Merlin whipped around, pulling his wrist away with more force than was necessary. "I'm _fine._" He said, and Gwaine's eyes widened. Merlin blinked once, shaking his head as if to clear it, and he rubbed his left wrist. Gwaine frowned - he hadn't grabbed him _that _roughly. He didn't miss Merlin's avoidance to meeting his eyes or the way his friend's jaw had clenched, as if he was concentrating on something.

"I'm fine." Merlin repeated, more to himself, then turned. "I've got to go," He said, voice strained, and before Gwaine could stop him, Merlin had disappeared.

"_Damn._" Gwaine watched him go, a sense of foreboding settling into his mind. Something was wrong with his best friend, Gwaine knew this for sure - and he'd be damned if he didn't figure out what.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sure all of you already know what's troubling our friend. Do you guys think the wrist rubbing is a good idea? Next chapter (hopefully) we'll get a bit more information out of Merlin. I'll try to post it by tomorrow!**


	3. Arthur's Plan

**A/N: Damn, I still don't seem to own Merlin. *hisses and stalks away* One day, darlings. **

**One day.**

* * *

_**Gwaine**_

Somewhere between his fifth and seventh pint of mead, Gwaine realized that he didn't want to be drunk.

Of course, by then, it was too late - the entire tavern had noticed his slurred words and clumsy feet, and the strange look in his eyes that meant he was too far gone to be saved.

When Gwaine finally did manage to stumble out of the tavern, the whole world around him wouldn't stop moving. He grimaced, holding a hand to his head - the next morning definitely wouldn't be his best.

_Merlin, _His weary mind suddenly reminded him of the reason he wasn't in the tavern now, gulping down more alcohol, _Gotta find out what's wrong with Merlin._

More than a little out of it, Gwaine managed to make his way though town - everyone was so used to the sight of the drunken knight that nobody commented on his foul breath, and hardly an eye stayed focused on him when he began to mumble to himself, "Gots to... Merlin?" It was both a blessing and a curse. This way, no one reprimanded him for sticking with old habits, but the price to pay was that everyone thought he was an idiot. Gwaine grimaced as he remembered the snickers of the townspeople when he'd become a knight. He wanted to stop, he really did - but he just couldn't.

The guards at the gates of the castle nodded to him as he passed through, more quiet now. His thoughts struggle to fight the rising incoherency of his mind, and he tried to hold onto the reason he'd come. _Merlin. I've gotta... I've gotta talk to Merlin. _

By some sort of miracle, Gwaine managed to make it all the way to the physician's chambers, leaning heavily on the door as he knocked. While he waited, he decided - No, he wouldn't talk to Merlin, because Merlin wouldn't talk to him. But maybe Gaius would know something.

When nobody answered, Gwaine grumbled to himself and waited a couple more seconds before throwing open the door. "Gaius?" He called, swaying on his feet, mead strong on his breath. "Oh, Gaius!" He laughed, beginning to forget why he was there. "Helloooo?" Gwaine leaned against one of the beds that was empty, smiling to himself.

His eyelids had already begun to flutter when the door to Merlin's room creaked open. "Gwaine," He looked up to see his raven haired friend staring at him, eyes wide. In his drunken state, Gwaine didn't notice the panic evident in Merlin's eyes, or the faint metallic smell of blood. "What are you _doing _here?"

"Gaius?" Gwaine hiccupped, standing and making his way towards Merlin. "Where's Gaius?"

"He's not here," Merlin was quick to reply, "He's gone for the month, helping people in the lower towns. Gwaine, please," The urgency in his voice was impossible to miss, "Go away."

"No' 'till ya talk to me," Gwaine blinked his eyes a couple of times to clear his vision, "C'mon, _Mer_lin, ya can talk to me."

Merlin opened his mouth, and, for a second, Gwaine fooled himself into thinking that his friend would really talk to him.

"No, I can't." Merlin said, his expression suddenlt pained. "Please, Gwaine," He whispered. "Please go away."

"No, I-"

"Get out!" Merlin screamed, and suddenly, Gwaine was flying through the air. "Merlin?" Gwaine croaked as he hit the wall with a sickening thump, trying to clear his vision - he could've sworn his friend's eyes had been gold.

Merlin stiffened, all the color leaving his face. "I'm sorry," He whispered, and let out a shaky breath. Then, the door slammed, and Gwaine was left alone in the physicians quarters, Merlin's panicked expression staying with him as he sank blissfully into unconsciousness.

* * *

_**Arthur**_

When Merlin didn't wake him up the next morning, Arthur made up his mind. He was the King - and he was going to get Merlin to talk.

While considering this, he heard a knock at the door. He frowned, momentarily considering the idea of simply ignoring whoever wanted to talk to him, but he knew he shouldn't - after all, what if it were Merlin?

"Come in," He called out, trying not to appear interested as the door swung open. But when he finally did allow himself to look up, his mouth tasted bitter with disappointment - it wasn't Merlin.

"What is it?" He said, annoyed. The servant - probably a new one, Arthur noted, seeing as though he'd never seen him around before - looked positively terrified, stumbling over his answer, "Th-the kn-knights request th-that I remind y-you of your h-hunting trip."

Arthur stood up, sighing. "Very well." When the servant didn't move, he raised his eyebrows. "For God sakes, boy! Are you deaf? You are dismissed!" He didn't think he'd ever seen someone run away from his as fast as the serving boy did, and for a moment, Arthur felt bad. But he had more important things to do than worry over some minor hurt feelings, and he quickly banished the thought from his mind. He found himself almost dreading the hunting trip - how would he get Merlin to talk if he wasn't in the castle with him?

That was it! The idea made him smile - he would take Merlin on the hunting trip and pull him aside, and then _make _him tell Arthur what was the matter. Pleased with himself, he nodded - Merlin would tell him. After all, he was horrible at keeping secrets - Arthur would probably be able to guess what was wrong, simply by looking at him.

Looking around his messy chambers, Arthur shook his head, pushed his chair away from the table, and headed down to the stables to get ready and find his ridiculous manservant.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I know the ending sucks. I'm sorry again - I feel like I'm dragging this out, but I just want it to be good! Poor Gwaine - I think you can all guess what he was about to catch Merlin doing, though. Stay tuned for some hunting - I'll try to update within the next couple of days, but I'm trying to work on Chains even as I write this, so it might take me a while.**

**Please review - it's so awesome to see what you guys think! **


	4. The Neckerchief

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone that has followed, favorited and reviewed! It means so much :3 I didn't think I'd get that much feedback for this ~ So I'm pleasantly overwhelmed. **

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_Merlin_

Merlin leaned against his door, his head and heart pounding as he stared unseeing at the wall in front of him. _Gwaine. _He looked at his hands, numb. What had he _done?_

He was vaguely aware of the blood that was streaming down his wrist but he paid it no attention. He hadn't even cut very deep, not before... he sucked in a breath. Not before Gwaine had walked in.

He was such an _idiot. _He stood up now, gaze unfocused until it rested upon his unconscious friend. How was it that he hadn't even _thought _of locking the door? His stomach felt sick with dread. How could he have done this?

It hurt to think, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to do _anything. _He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself against the table.

/_worthless/stupid/idiot/ithurtssobad/_

With shaky fingers, he leaned down to check Gwaine's pulse. Was that Gwaine's pulse pounding, or was his own so loud that he couldn't feel anything but the blood slowly dripping down his arm and his stomach clenching? He tried to calm himself down, to find a peaceful place, but there was nothing peaceful about his mind.

_you're such an idiot, Merlin. This is all your fault. Everything is your fault. You don't deserve it - you don't deserve to live, not when you hurt everyone. Why do you always hurt everyone? _The voice wouldn't stop whispering, it never stop, it never would, Merlin would never be free of it -

He pulled away from Gwaine and struggled to breathe. He felt lightheaded, the buzz from the razor still fresh in his mind, the magic still lingering in his fingers. Something in the back of his head reminded him to clean things up. _Can't leave a mess. _He grabbed a piece of cloth from his bedside table and without knowing what he was doing, wiped his arm down.

Looking once more at his friend, Merlin closed his eyes and stumbled out of the room. He had to get away, he had to be gone, he couldn't stay here. He went so fast, he didn't realize what he'd missed.

Gwaine's neck, where he had fumbled around searching for a pulse, was smeared red with his blood.

* * *

If you'd asked him to put an exact date on the time when he'd stopped smiling, Merlin wouldn't have been able to tell you when the fog had settled in. It had happened slowly, and then all at once - too fast to stop. He saw everyone else, happy, and wondered how they managed. It was like a glass wall had been put up - but no one would help him. He didn't _deserve _their help, anyways - he hated himself more than he could bear. Merlin closed his eyes and tried to remember being happy.

But the memory was too far away for him to reach.

Merlin made it to the stables and, breathing heavily, leaned against the wall. The smell of the hay was warm and might have been comforting, if Merlin had let it. But he didn't want to be comforted. He wanted to be gone, to be away, to be someone else. _Anyone _else.

He looked at the cloth he'd grabbed earlier to stanch the blood and, with a small, sad laugh, realized that it was his neckerchief. Blood stained its once blue color, dying in purple. He stared at it and wished he was dead so he didn't have to feel the pain he felt looking at it, remembering who'd once worn it - Merlin, not a shell of him, not who he'd turned into. With shaky fingers, Merlin tied the cloth around his neck.

In that moment, he didn't feel like Emrys. As he sank into the cold hay, Merlin wasn't a great and powerful warlock. He was a boy, covered in pink and white whispers, and full of something he couldn't rid himself of - and the worst part was, Merlin was no longer sure if he wanted to.

He drifted off to sleep wondering how it would feel to die.

* * *

_**Arthur**_

"_Mer_lin, go away," Arthur, still half-asleep, groaned from beneath a pillow, "I'm _sleeping._"

"Well, you had to get up sometime" Merlin said, and Arthur, suddenly awake, looked up from underneath his covers because was that really Merlin? His raven colored hair was uncombed, his clothing wrinkled, and there were bags under his eyes. As he pulled open the curtains, Arthur found that it was impossible to miss the tremble in his fingers and the emptiness in his voice.

"You're cheery today," He observed, but it was more of a question than a statement. _Are you okay?_

Merlin didn't answer and Arthur didn't speak, and the room was so quiet he could hear Merlin's breathing. As his manservant bent down to pick something up off the floor, Arthur noticed a glint of something and frowned.

"Why do you have hay in your hair?"

Arthur wasn't sure what he'd been expecting - an answer, maybe, or perhaps a cheeky response, but he certainly wasn't expecting Merlin to stiffen, straighten up, and with something akin to panic in his eyes, utter, "I don't want to talk about it."

"What makes you so sure I want to talk to you about your problems?" Arthur said, trying to prod Merlin into the familiar banter, but it had the opposite effect. Merlin winced away, then said almost bitterly, "I didn't think you did." Merlin rubbed his wrist - the right one this time, and didn't meet Arthur's eyes.

The silence made him want to ram his head into a wall or perhaps into Merlin because if asking calmly didn't get Merlin to respond, then maybe pinning him down and demanding answers was, because, if Arthur told the truth, he was worried. More than worried - Merlin was obviously in some sort of trouble, but why did he seem to feel the need to hide it?

The door creaked open and George peeked in. _Of course he would come right now. _"What?" Arthur asked tersely, not taking his eyes off of Merlin - who was staring at the window, eyes unfocused.

"Sire, I've been requested to remind you _again_," He stressed the last word, "That you are late to go hunting."

Arthur grunted. "You are dismissed, George." With a sniff, the servant bowed, glanced over at Merlin once in distaste, and then left his chambers.

"Merlin, saddle up the horses," Suddenly, his plan to go hunting with Merlin didn't seem smart - it seemed idiotic, because they didn't need to go _hunting, _they needed to stay here and talk because Merlin was about to say something and now maybe he never would. "I'll be down shortly."  


Merlin left Arthur with the sinking feeling that no matter how right he tried to make things seem, something was definitely wrong.

And he'd be damned if he didn't figure it out.

* * *

When Arthur finally made it down the stairs and into the courtyard, he still had no idea what to say - or how to talk - to his manservant. Merlin made it easy for him; his eyes were downcast and his horse was the farthest away from Arthur's, it was obvious that he was avoiding him.

Arthur cast a glance at the other knights who'd been assembled for the hunting trip, and frowned. There were four other knights there, but he didn't know any of them personally; Sir Leon and the others whom he usually went with had all been busy training the new squires. Arthur looked around at them and it dawned on him that he didn't want to be in a big group - he didn't want to be here, period. For once in his life, Arthur realized, he didn't want to be hunting.

He cleared his throat as he swung himself onto his saddle and, nudging the sides of his horse, starting out at a brisk pace. "Let's split up," He said as they rode out of the gates, well aware of the incredulous looks he was probably receiving - they never split up on hunting trips, it ruined the purpose of having the big group there to scare the animals. But there was no way they could object - not without risking an insult to his intelligence. "I'll go towards the west with Merlin," Out of the corner of his eye, he could've sworn he saw his manservant stiffen, "And you four go out east, on your own."

He heard their murmurs of agreement - save for one annoyed mutter - and then motioned to Merlin to follow him as he headed away from the group of knights. He knew they were curious, and would probably question him later but, honestly, he had more important things to deal with.

As soon as they were far enough into the forest that he knew that they wouldn't be heard, Arthur turned. "Okay, _Mer_lin," He refused to stymied, even with his manservant didn't even glance at him, "Tell me what's the matter."

Merlin muttered something that Arthur couldn't quite hear, and, frowning, Arthur edged his horse closer to Merlin's. "What was that, Merlin?" He tried to keep the tone light so that he wouldn't hear how worried he really was - there was no need for Merlin to know the extend of his emotions.

"You wouldn't," Merlin drew in a haggard breath. "You _couldn't _understand."

Something in his tone made Arthur stop. He wasn't sure if it was the lost expression on Merlin's face, or the way he was hunched over, or how he wouldn't stop rubbing his wrist, but he knew. Maybe this was something bigger than he'd given Merlin credit for.

"Try me." Arthur said, and he wanted to beg now, because he knew everything was wrong, and his heart was racing.

Alone in the forest, they stared at each other until Merlin's voice broke the heavy silence. "Arthur, I-"

But whatever he was going to say was lost as they heard a low _hiss _from below them. Arthur saw everything in slow motion - Merlin's horse reared, Merlin's eyes widening, his manservant flying off the horse as it bucked to get away.

Arthur watched Merlin fall, frozen in place. His servant didn't move from his place on the ground, lying awkwardly on his back, arm twisted beneath him.

"Merlin?" _Damnit, are you okay?_

Merlin groaned in response and, forgetting all about their conversation, Arthur swung himself off his mare and ran towards him. "Are you okay?" This time, he said it aloud - to hell with not letting Merlin know how he felt, Merlin was _hurt, _he was-

"Yeah." Incredulous, he watched as Merlin started to get up, "I'm fine, Arthur, really-" But when he put weight onto his right arm, he gasped, face paling and pain flashing in his eyes. "I'm fine." He finished weakly.

"No, you're not," Arthur said, though he had to fight to hide his relief - it could have been _much _worse, thank God he'd only hurt his arm, "Here let me see." Gently, he grabbed Merlin's injured arm and began to unbutton his sleeves.

Merlin's eyes widened and he yanked his arm away. "No! You can't! You-you can't-" Merlin's breath quickened as he held his arm to his side.

Arthur flinched away from the look in his eyes. "Merlin, what are you saying?" But his manservant didn't listen, only rubbed his wrist and breathed in and out, over and over again. "Merlin."

As the raven haired boy started to get up, Arthur reached out to grab his jacket, trying to anchor him in place. _What is he hiding? _Arthur would never admit it, not to anyone, but he was afraid.

But he missed the jacket, instead catching the man's neckerchief as he tried to get up, tearing it off of his neck. Merlin's eyes widened as he fell backwards with a small cry, but that was the least of Arthur's worries.

He turned the neckerchief over in his hands, his blood running cold. "Merlin?" He asked again, but behind the question was the weight of an entire kingdom.

Because the neckerchief he'd grabbed was stained red with blood.

* * *

**Sorry for leaving you all on that cliffhanger, but I thought it was only fair. If anyone's wondering where Gwaine's gone, don't worry - you'll see him soon enough. Next chapter will be from Merlin's p.o.v. - Is there anyone else interested in what's going on in his head?**

**It took me for-e-ver to update (sorry, kiddies) so hopefully the next one will go a bit, erm... faster? I'll do my best.**

**still!don't!own!merlin!**

**please please _please _review! :)**


	5. Gwaine Remembers

**A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews! I'm sorry I couldn't reply to them, especially the guest ones, but i'm very glad you guys are enjoying it. *clears throat* anyways, on with the story.**

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_**Merlin**_

Merlin felt like he was falling and drowning and burning as Arthur inspected the neckerchief. He cursed himself, rubbing his scars until it hurt. He knew one of the cuts had opened again because he could feel the blood snaking down his wrist and wetting his long shirt, but Merlin couldn't bring himself to care because Arthur knew.

Now, Arthur would know he was a monster, too.

_/stupid/worthless/idiot/you'dbebetteroffdead/_

Arthur opened his mouth, but Merlin was barely listening to his shaky _what is this? _and then he felt Arthur's hand on his shoulder and he looked into his friend's eyes and stopped. Arthur looked almost concerned for him, he looked... he didn't look like he was mad.

Merlin shook his head. He would be. He would be, and he would hate him, and it would all be for nothing. He would hate him if he knew, if he knew the truth.

He saw Arthur's eyes widen as the King caught sight of the blood spilling down his arm and Merlin no longer had the strength to stop him, and he just watched, limp, as Arthur pulled up his sleeve. He heard Arthur's breath catch in his throat, and when Merlin looked up again, the horror in Arthur's eyes felt like a slap.

_He hates you now, too. Everyone hates you, Merlin._

"I..." Merlin didn't know what to say, his mouth open and his vision blurry. "I'm sorry," He said, hating that his voice cracked. Arthur looked at him, still stunned into silence, but Merlin didn't wait for him to answer. "I'm so sorry."

He put out his hand to stop his King from stepping any closer, and closed his eyes so that he didn't have to watch as Arthur sailed through the air, landing against a tree. He was unconscious.

Taking in a shaky breath, Merlin took a step back, and then another, and then he was running as the tears fell and his pulse pounded in his ears. The trees passed by him in a blur of color that he was blind to, and Merlin kept running as fast as he could to stop the thoughts, but it was no use.

_I deserve to die. Death would be better than this, wouldn't it? Or maybe I don't. I probably deserve this pain. After all, I'm the reason that all of my friends are gone. I wasn't good enough for them. I'm not good enough for anything._

Merlin let out a sob as he saw the castle and he wondered if anything was worth it anymore.

He wasn't so sure that it was.

* * *

**_Gwaine_**

Gwaine didn't remember a lot about the night before, but he knew he hadn't been _that _drunk. He'd had bad hangovers before, sure, but none as bad as this. Gwaine was pretty sure that his head was going to split into two. _Although, _he winced as he rubbed his temple with one hand, vision still blurry, _Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. _

He frowned as he sat up, the pain in his head slowly dulling to a faint banging. He wasn't in his own chambers, not even close. The air smelled faintly of herbs, and there was a cot in front of him, and...

Oh! His eyes widened as he began to piece together what had happened the night before. Merlin. Where was Merlin? He got up, faster than was probably wise, and looked around. Gaius's chambers were completely empty. There was no trace of his friend. Gwaine frowned, massaging his temples as he tried to remember what had happened. As he looked down, wondering where his shoes were - and why wasn't he wearing shoes? - he saw it.

The blood.

The floor was splattered with it, little splashes of dark brown color staining the pale wooden floor. Gwaine's breath caught in his throat, and even before he checked himself for an injury, he knew that the blood wasn't his. And then he remembered - the look in Merlin's eyes, the haunted expression, the way Merlin had screamed and then he'd been flying into a wall and then the world had gone dark. But that was impossible - how had _Mer_lin, of all people, managed to throw him into a wall? And he hadn't been close to the wall, either. Slowly - he'd learned the hard way that sudden movements weren't such a good idea right now - he turned his head. He'd been standing right _there, _and he'd flown into the wall _there... _Gwaine shook his head, and then regretted it. There was no way Merlin had done that. Even _Gwaine _didn't think he'd be able to throw a full grown men almost ten feet into a wall with enough strength to knock him out. _  
_

But there hadn't been anyone else there.

And there was so much blood...

As Gwaine turned one last time, thoughts still murky and hands shaking, he caught a glimpse of himself in Gaius's mirror. He paused, the reflection of him staring him down. His hair was messy, and there were bags under his eyes. Somehow, he'd managed to lose his jacket and shoes last night, and his pants looked suspiciously undone. And was his shirt on backwards? He frowned, he could've sworn his shirt was white, but what were those stains?

And then his heart skipped a bit, because there were bloodstains all over his shirt and when he leaned in closer, he realized that they didn't look like they were coming from him. They looked like someone had been dripping blood on him. As he reached it to touch them, fingers hovering over the marks, he saw the rest of it. His neck was covered with it, dry and metallic smelling.

Gwaine closed his eyes and shivered, because it wasn't his blood. But who could it have been? The only person he'd seen since he'd been back from the tavern - and he knew for a _fact _that these hadn't been there then - had been Merlin.

Oh.

_Oh._

Gwaine straightened up, fists clenched so tight his nails broke the skin. Merlin. What had happened to Merlin? _Who _had happened to Merlin? Merlin, his innocent, sweet, naive friend. Someone had made him bleed, someone had hurt him while Gwaine had been unconscious. It all made sense now! Gwaine willed it to make sense, willed the scene to come together before his eyes. Yes, their attacker must have knocked Gwaine out and done something to Merlin. Of course, of course that had been what had happened.

Gwaine threw open the door to the physician's chambers, and started walking. He was going to find Merlin, and that was that. But before he'd even managed to leave the hall, he ran straight into someone.

"Watch where your going!" He barked, and until that moment, he hadn't realized how on edge he'd been. He felt a bit guilty for snapping, but when he saw who it was, he snorted. "Princess, what's the matter with you?"

Because Arthur looked like he hadn't slept in weeks and there was blood trickling down the back of his neck, and when he opened his mouth, the answer was more of a strained rasp than a calm, collected voice of a king.

"We have to find Merlin. Now."

And when Gwaine saw the crumpled up neckerchief in his hand, he didn't doubt it.

He only hoped they'd be able to find him before it was too late.

* * *

**So, Gwaine's totally oblivious. Don't worry, it won't last... forever.**

**Just two more chapters to go! We're almost done, which is good, because I'm currently juggling two stories and let me tell you, it's no picnic. Please review! I'd love to see what you guys think.**

**And wow! Thank you thank you thank you for 41 follows! That's amazing! I love all of you, seriously.**

**xx, Cathywren**


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